


Homage

by BB90



Category: Death Note & Related Fandoms, Death Note (Anime & Manga), Death Note: Another Note
Genre: Character Study, M/M, One Shot, POV First Person, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pre-Canon, Slash, Wammy House, Wammy's Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-26
Updated: 2017-04-26
Packaged: 2018-10-24 05:16:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10734882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BB90/pseuds/BB90
Summary: “B... What is this?” He cups my chin, tilts it gently toward the patch of pale moonlight, trying to better make out my face in the gloom.“It's nothing,” I whisper. I can't bring myself to meet his gaze, though I know he's staring down at me, staring like he always does. Only now it seems like he's finally seeing me for the very first time.





	Homage

**Author's Note:**

> I dunno guys, sometimes you just want to write a nice little smutty BxL scene, amirite?

I am kneeling by his bed, and he is still half-asleep, and nothing at all is making sense to him yet.

“B... What is this?” He cups my chin, tilts it gently toward the patch of pale moonlight, trying to better make out my face in the gloom.

“It's nothing,” I whisper. I can't bring myself to meet his gaze, though I know he's staring at me, staring like he always does. Only now it seems like he's finally seeing me for the very first time.

He doesn't speak for a long moment. His thumbnail traces the painted shadows under my eyes, outlines the shaded contours of my cheeks, the touch soft and questioning. “It doesn't look like 'nothing' to me,” he says, quietly bemused, and my eyes drift closed at the deep purr of his words. 

I'm in love with his voice, I think. I don't get to hear it nearly often enough anymore.

“Do you like it?” I ask after a moment, smiling a little.

He holds my face still in the moonlight and looks and looks at it and doesn't answer. My eyes stay shut, but I can imagine the tiny crease in his brow, sense the questions pooling unspoken in his mind, and for now that is good enough.

“Your hair,” he chides at last, and smooths it back off my forehead. 

“Yes. A helped me with that part.”

“Is that so.” He tucks an unruly strand behind my ear, then continues stroking my head softly, and I drowse into the gentle touch. “And I suppose he helped you with the clothes, as well," he says.

“Yes. I did it all for you, L.”

His fingers pause in my hair at that, and I take advantage of the hesitation to capture his hand and ease it down between us.

“Don't be cross with me, L. Think of it as... homage.” I graze my lips across his wrist, along his thumb.  
  
“Really now, B.” He's trying to be scornful, though it sounds like he can hardly breathe all of a sudden, and I have to hide a smirk against his palm. L may never have noticed my eyes before the makeup, but he has always been captivated by my mouth, after all.

“God, I love your hands,” I sigh, kissing each and every one of his fingertips, over and over and over. When I finally chance a look up at him, those bottomless eyes are boring down on me with a dark hunger that sends shivers through my blood. 

“I missed you," I say. I am a needy thing for him as always, ravenous.

He merely stares, looking me over thoroughly again from top to bottom, eyebrows raised. “I can tell,” he says finally, smirking.

“Did you miss me?”  
  
“I have a six a.m. meeting with Interpol,” he says. He still can't look away.  
  
I hold his gaze and then slip his fingers into my mouth, sucking gently, and that does it. L narrows his eyes and pulls me roughly onto the mattress.

\-- 

It's always good with us. But it's never been _this_ good before, never.

He was hungry, alright, and now he's making a meal of me. I climb the headboard, dazed and trembling, and L follows right behind, no escape, and strong fingers lift my hips right onto his lap and that wicked head descends again, and then I'm trapped and holy god I'm coming _again_  and I have to clamp both hands over my mouth just to keep from waking up the entire floor.

My shirt stays on, and the jeans stay bunched around my ankles for a good long while, and L seems to like that more than I would have ever imagined. He pulls me up by the collar and kisses me hard afterwards, and I finally kick off the pants and tangle my legs around his sweaty back, tasting myself deep on his tongue. We wrestle for top for a while, and when I finally pin him down I tease him mercilessly with slick fingers and whisper into his ear all the dirty little things I dreamed about him while he was gone, the things that would so often leave me waking up sweating and confused with one hand down my boxers.

L listens, and L shudders, but he also just can't stop pushing back up to _stare_ at me. He can't stop running his hands over my mussed, darkened hair, my shadowed eyes, can't stop his palms from roaming up underneath the damp white shirt.

It is, quite simply, hilarious.  
  
“This... is.. so _bizarre_ ,” he pants finally as I flip him over again.  
  
“I'd have done it a lot sooner if I'd known how much you would _like_ it, you big pervert,” I tease, kissing his ear, because he's already half-stiff yet _again_ , and soon his legs are up around me and our slick foreheads are touching, and he moans and pulls me down to suck another bruise on my throat. I grab the headboard and ride him and ride him until the sheets are soaked and we both can't possibly come anymore.

 --

L sleeps through his meeting with Interpol.

\--

We spend a few leisurely moments in the washroom together the next morning. He leans his chin on my shoulder and wraps an arm lazily around my waist while I brush my teeth.

“We look like conjoined twins, B."

I glance up at the mirror and see that he's right. Even our hickeys are matching. Who would have guessed what a little hair dye and eye shadow could do?

“I should've known that would be a kink for somebody as egotistical as you," I snicker, elbowing him off and spitting foam into the sink.

“This is entirely your fault, you know.” He winces as he inspects a bruise on his collarbone.  
  
“Well, my sincerest apologies, L. If you need to cover that up I have some makeup that should be just your shade.”


End file.
